Page 77 of When the Laird Conquers

“Keith, fetch that wagon from the back of the smithy,” he instructed, turning to his man-at-arms. “These men are goin’ to spend some time in me dungeons until they’re truly remorseful for their loose lips. They should have plenty of time to reflect on their mistakes. If nae, I’m sure I can make ‘em remorseful enough.”

Keith looked surprised, while the trio of traitors turned pale and trembled in their chairs.

It had been a long time since Gordon had seen anyone held prisoner in Castle Buchlann’s dungeons, which meant they would be in such a dank and vile condition that these men would be pleading for forgiveness before long.

“Daenae look so grim, lads. At least ye’ll be in the company of yer own kind,” Gordon said with a cold smirk. “I hear there are thousands of rats down there.”

30

“Is that a sparrow?” Agnes cooed as she sat on the grass with Lizzy, enjoying a rather mild afternoon. “Look at it hopping!”

Lizzy ignored the bird, intent on trying to pluck a daisy from the ground.

It had been several days since her father’s arrival, and though it had been pleasant to see him again, Agnes was glad of a moment alone. A moment where she didn’t have to think about entertaining her father or about gowns or about the wedding that was coming up at a terrifying pace or about anything other than her niece.

She did not doubt that someone would eventually find her to ask her a thousand questions about this and that, but for now, she was content to enjoy the peace.

“Your mother used to love robins,” she said to Lizzy. “She would talk to them when they flew into the gardens at Hampton House. I used to think she was quite mad, but what was madder was that the robins used to chirp back to her.”

Lizzy managed to pinch the daisy, entirely oblivious to the fact she was being spoken to.

Agnes had to laugh. “Not exactly a captive audience, are you?”

Speaking of a captive audience, she had heard from Iona that some men had been brought to the castle dungeons yesterday. Who they were and why they were imprisoned remained a mystery, but Agnes could not stop worrying that Edwin might be down there in the cells.

Gordon would have told me if he was, wouldn’t he?

As if summoned, she looked up to find Gordon himself, walking along that path that ran around the castle. His eyes were shadowed with dark crescents, and he wandered as if in a daze, like a man who had not slept all night. On his hands were fresh bruises, the redness drawing her eye.

Just then, he looked over at her.

Will you keep avoiding me?

She had assumed that was why she had not seen him since he had announced to her father that they were to be wed—because he didn’t want to speak about the wedding. He had been forced into it, she knew that, but couldn’t they at least be civil?

After all, just before that unexpected announcement, he had kissed her as if he believed it was all real. As if she meant something to him.

She got up, deciding that she wouldn’t leave it in his hands to come and speak to her.

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” she said, forcing a chuckle.

Gordon paused, a tight smile on his lips. “I spent the night dealin’ with traitors.”

“Traitors?” Agnes swallowed.

“Aye, but all’s well.”

She nodded, feeling awkward. “I haven’t seen you in days.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Yes… Yes, of course you have.” She took a breath. “I… I just wanted to say that I am sorry about all of this. I am sorry that you are stuck with me when you never wanted to get married. I am sorry that the terms of our arrangement were altered, outside of our control.”

He shrugged. “Serves me right for kissin’ ye with paint on me hands.”

She frowned, surprised by the jest. She had assumed that he would be taking this whole wedding debacle very badly, not making jokes about it.

“But it’s me who’s sorry,” he added with a sigh, all humor vanishing. “Sorry that ye’re stuck with someone who can never be the husband ye want.”